LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 

■ Shelf .C'^^'^.Mx 

UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 









ESSAY 

i 


: ON THE 

1 


1 

'PHILOSOPHICAL CHARACTER 

! 
1 


OF 


CHANNING. 

1 

1 


I 

1 

! -" 

BY 

ROWLAND G. HAZARD. 


1 

• 


1 

BOSTON: e^ 


! JAMES MUNROE AND COMPANY. 


■ 18 45. _ , 

1 ' - - 1 



Jv 



ESSAY 



ON THE 



PHILOSOPHICAL CHARACTER 



OF 



CHANGING. 



'%n ^ 



ROWLAND G. HAZARD 



BOSTON: 

JAMES MUNROE AND COMPANY 
18 4 5. 



0^ ^^^ 



^\.^ 



I THE LIBRARY 
or CONGRESS 



WAtHINOTON 



Entered according to act of Congress, in the year 1845, by 

James Munroe and Co., 

in the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the District of Massachusetts. 



IS 






BOSTON: 

PRINTED BY TllUUSTON, TORRY & CO. 
31 Devonshire Street. 



PREFACE. 



In publishing this Essay the writer is aware, that he renders 
himself liable to the charge of presumption, in having under- 
taken a work, which the public would rather have expected from 
some one of established reputation for profound thought and 
erudition, than from one having so little connection with literary 
and philosophical pursuits. 

In mitigation of any offence with which he may thus be 
deemed chargeable, he may be permitted to observe, that the 
small portion of ground he has occupied does not exclude others ; 
and that in the attempt to commence a task, to the completion of 
which he is conscious that higher attainments are requisite, he 
wrote with the expectation that his work might be used merely 
as suggestive, in the department to which it relates, to those en- 
gaged in a general biography ; but that by the advice of a few 
friends, and in conformity to the views of the near relatives of 
Dr. Channlng, it is now offered in a separate form, some additions 
having been made to the original manuscript for that object. 



ESSAY 



When a great and good man dies, it is a generous impulse 
which prompts us to redeem from obhvion those incidents of 
his hfe, and those traits of his character, which may serve to 
gratify a laudable desire to know as much as possible of the 
benefactor of our race ; to sustain a praiseworthy interest in 
all that makes us more familiar with the thoughts and actions 
which comprise his history, and to hold up to the present and 
succeeding generations, an object for those feelings of admir- 
ation and gratitude, which nurture pure purpose and noble 
sentiment in the living, while they render merited homage to 
departed worth. 

It is the part of wisdom to preserve, in the most enduring 
forms, the lineaments of his mind, that, by an immortal influ- 
ence, they may perpetuate and enforce the precepts and 
examples by which he has contributed to the happiness and 
progress of his fellow men. A generous and philanthropic 
regard for the living, and the natural and commendable desire 
to serve posterity, no less than reverence and gratitude for 
the illustrious dead, demand the performance of this duty. 

In the death of Channing we have lost the brightest orna- 
ment of our literature, the able sustainer and promoter of a 
pure morality and rational piety, and the strong and fearless 
champion of human rights. We would that all which per- 
tained to him should be held in enduring remembrance, that, 
by an ideal presence, his purity may forever encourage virtue, 
his calm energy continually sustain the weak and assure the 



timid, and his moral dignity and elevated piety perpetually 
exhort the degraded and sensual to a nobler and more spir- 
itual existence. 

Even the artist who portrays the external features of such 
men, with some faint approaches to the expression which 
soLil has given them, perform.s no mean service to his race ; 
and while pure and lofty thoughts, clothed in harmonious and 
beautiful expression, shall continue to delight, to elevate, and 
refine the mind, will the canvass on which the pencil of 
genius has delineated the benign countenance of Channing, 
awaken in the beholder the sentiments of admiration and rev- 
erence, and inspire him with high and disinterested principle, 
earnest and manly purpose, and firm and magnanimous devo- 
tion to truth and virtue. We gaze on those calm features, 
moulded by benevolence and philosophic meditation, and are 
again and again carried back to those cherished hours of con- 
verse, when their vital expression betrayed the varying emo- 
tions of his soul, as " calmly he uttered his beautiful thought," 
or as ''bravely he spoke to oppression and wrong," till kin- 
dling with the associations thus recalled, we breathe the 
thought, we give utterance to the wish, that some intellectual 
artist would portray the moral beauty and spiritual energy 
which tabernacled in that feeble frame. 

We aspire not to such a work. Abler hands have not 
unwisely shrunk from the task, and our purpose is only to 
give such profile sketch as we may draw from the unforgotten 
past, in aid of the hand which shall essay a more perfect por- 
trait ; to give form to our recollections of some aspects of his 
mind, which we had opportunities for observing, before time 
shall have dimmed their lines on the tablets of memory, or 
imagination shall have removed the landmarks of reality, and 
blended them with those ideal conceptions of moral beauty 
and excellence, to which they are nearly allied. 

Willingly would we linger yet longer amid these cherished 
recollections, and enjoy in soothing reverie the retrospection 
glowing with such benign light. But the spirit which sheds 
its radiance over it, and whose influence we would now in- 



voke, summons us to a more earnest and arduous duty. To 
strow bis grave with the fragrant flowers, planted by his band, 
and cherished in our hearts, is not allotted to us. In his 
presence we are reproved when we relax in that labor for the 
progress of our race, in which he never seemed to tire, and 
in this cause we now proceed to offer some remarks upon his 
philosophical character. Partial and imperfect, we are 
aware, our analysis of it must be, but if in conformity to our 
design, as already expressed, we can reflect a ray of hght on 
some phase of his mind, or render any portion of its out- 
line more distinct, we shall not deem the labor bestowed in 
vain. 

The mind of Channing, as viewed in the abstract, with 
reference only to its truth discovering powers, separated from 
the impulses which gave it activity, and from the motives 
which directed its energies, presents, as one of its most 
striking characteristics, the important aid which the intellec- 
tual faculties derived from the moral qualities. This is so 
apparent in his writings, that it can hardly escape the notice 
even of a superficial observer. It was yet more obvious 
in his conversation, for in the familiar colloquial expression 
of his views, upon subjects which he had not made his 
particular study, he habitually gave utterance to the dictates 
of his moral sense, before he had constructed any argument 
to sustain them, or even distinctly ascertained their relations 
to any pre-established principles. 

In him this was not the effect of intellectual temerity, of 
even of a want of caution, but of a firm rehance on these dic- 
tates of the internal consciousness. This influence of the 
moral qualities is a very important element in the philoso- 
phic mind, and one which, perhaps, is not generally estimated 
so highly as it deserves. It gives a sensibility which enables 
the mind to recognise truth in its most etherial forms, and to 
detect error in its most subtle disguises. Without it, the 
intellect may be acute, but cannot attain that wisdom which 
lays the foundations of its knowledge on the rock of truth. 



8 

Even in those who are not remarkable for the possession of 
these quaHties, opinions are modified, and judgment improved 
by their influence. It would be but a truism to say that the 
sense of right runs through all our convictions of every kind, 
but we may also add, that the sense of justice, either directly 
or by close analogies, pervades and binds together all truth. 
This is the case, not only with the abstractions of ethics 
and metaphysics, but even with the conclusions of mathemat- 
ical reasoning, of all truths the farthest removed from the 
jurisdiction of the moral sense. 

In these spontaneous suggestions, he had himself great 
confidence. The accuracy with which he had settled great 
leading principles, — the purity of his morals, — the sensi- 
tiveness of his mind, — his inflexible justice, and the clear- 
ness and extent of his spiritual perceptions, — all combined to 
give them a truthful aim, which seldom failed to direct their 
conclusions within the limits of moral certainty. They were 
in him revelations which mere argument could not supersede; 
and highly as he estimated the reasoning faculties, he never 
exalted them above consciousness, nor deemed their authority 
paramount to the dictates of the moral sense ; but on the 
contrary, in any apparent collision between them, he was 
more prone to suspect error in the reasoning processes than 
in the moral judgment. 

In his mind conscience was supreme, and established and 
preserved a beautiful harmony in the movements of all its 
powers. From his own convictions he thus speaks of it : — 

"It is conscience within us, which, by its approving and con- 
demning voice, interprets to us God's love of virtue, and hatred 
of sin; and without conscience, these glorious conceptions 
would never have opened upon the mind. It is the lawgiver in 
our breasts which gives us the idea of divine authority, and 
binds us to obey it. The soul, by its sense of right, or its per- 
ception of moral distinctions, is clothed with sovereignty over 
itself, and through this alone it understands and recognizes the 
Sovereign of the Universe. Men, as by a natural inspiration, 
have agreed to speak of conscience as the voice of God, as the 



Divinity within us. This principle, reverently obeyed, makes 
us more and more partakers of the moral perfections of the 
Supreme Being, of that very excellence, which constitutes the 
rightfulness of his sceptre, and enthrones him over the universe. 
Without this inward law, we should be as incapable of receiv- 
ino- a law from Heaven as the brute. Without this, the thunders 
of Sinai might startle the outward ear, but would have no 
meaning, no authority to the mind. I have expressed here a 
great truth. Nothing teaches so encouragingly our relation and 
resemblance to God : for the Glory of the Supreme Being is 
eminently moral." — Vol. III. p. 234. 

The tendency of this influence of the moral qualities, in 
their full development, is to give greater sensibility, reach and 
certainty to the perceiving and intuitive faculties, and at 
the same time, induce a firm reliance in their revelations. 
A large infusion of these qualities thus exerted, and in com- 
bination with the reasoning powers, forms the basis of the 
poetic order of philosophic minds. By this phrase we do 
not mean that order of mind which delights in fiction, nor 
even that which, of necessity, pursues the imaginary and 
beautiful in preference to the real. We do not so under- 
stand poetry. On the contrary, we believe it to be the 
result of that faculty of the mind by which it is most nearly 
allied to the actual, and which most especially seeks truth 
through the medium of reality, — that its processes are carried 
on by means of the original impressions which the mind 
receives of the objects of thought, whether these impres- 
sions are the result of observation or reflection: — that it 
thus brings the actual existencies before the mental vision, 
enabling it to observe their relations without first substituting 
arbitrary signs for them, and is thus contra-distinguished from 
the prosaic or logical mode, in which abstract terms or signs 
are substituted for realities, as a means of comparing their 
relations, and of which mathematical reasoning, based entire- 
ly on hypotheses, involved in the definitions, and carried on by 
arbitrary signs, having no natural connexion or analogous 



10 

relations to the things they represent, is the most perfect 
specimen. 

These two modes of investigation, — the one carried on by 
means of a direct examination of the reahties themselves ; the 
other by means of words or other signs substituted for those 
realities, — constitute the most important distinction in the 
means of philosophic research and discovery. Each has its 
peculiar advantages, and both are perhaps equally necessary 
to the advancement of knowledge. Like the external senses 
of sight and feeling, they mutually confirm or correct each 
other. 

The prosaic mode has the advantage in condensing and 
generalizing, and perhaps we may add, that its results are 
more distinct and definite ; but it is confined to a very con- 
tracted sphere of action, and can be extended httle, if any, 
beyond the hmits in which a philosophical or scientific lan- 
guage has been constructed ; while the poetic is coextensive 
with thought, and freely traverses its boundless domain. 

In its least etherial form, it is the element of that common 
sense which, perceiving the reality of things and events, and 
their relations to time and to each other, is enabled to form 
just opinions of propriety, and probable conjectures of im- 
mediate consequences ; and as it is aided and elevated by the 
moral sentiments, — combined with intellectual power, and 
invigorated by warm feelings, pure passion, and fervid enthu- 
siasm, — rises to the dignity of inspiration, and the sublimity of 
prophecy. 

It does not follow that a man possessing this order of mind, 
inspired poet though he be, will seek to express himself in 
poetic diction. He will almost of necessity acquire a love 
for beauty, harmony, and sublimity, and this sentiment will 
naturally manifest itself in his style, and mould it into a cor- 
respondence witli its own character. His thoughts extending 
beyond the limits of definite or conventional terras, he must, 
if he imparts them at all, present them by means of some 
other representative of ideas, — by literal description, or by 
analogies and associations which will convey his views to the 



11 

minds of others ; and this power of bringing the mind in im- 
mediate contact with the actual, we hold to be the distinguish- 
ing characteristic of poetry, which, consequently, is the 
nearest possible approach which language can make to reality. 
It pictures to the mind all the objects, occasions and results 
of thought, with almost as much certainty and precision as 
the eye presents it with the external appearances of nature, 
and scarcely less immediately ; for when poetic language 
assumes its purest form, we are as unconscious of the medium 
of words which it uses, as we are of the motion of light, and 
of the image on the retina by which we are made conscious 
of the existence of external objects. 

The power of advancing beyond the limits of concrete 
science, which is conferred by the poetic mode of mind, 
makes it the all-important element of discovery and invention, 
and hence it is the essential attribute of genius. That most 
minds with capacities for this higher sphere of action should 
be absorbed by it, and attain excellence in it only by fervent 
devotion to the improvement and enlargement of those ca- 
pacities is not remarkable, and that they should neglect to 
cultivate the arts of logic, is as natural as that the genius of 
Milton or Shakspeare should not have been directed to me- 
chanical contrivance or arithmetical calculations. He who, 
by the exercise of the poetic faculties, can, from the whole 
universe, summon before him all the objects of his knowl- 
edge, is under no necessity to substitute visible signs to make 
those objects tangible to his thoughts. He who, by the same 
power, can observe all the properties and all the relations of 
those objects, has no occasion to marshal words in their 
stead. 

He who can thus bring the result of his observations 
directly to the view of the mental perceptions, and make them 
bear immediately on the springs of moral action, has no 
need to approach reason or conscience through the cold 
medium of artificial signs and soulless abstractions. He 
WMelds a mightier sceptre. He possesses a more Godlike at- 
tribute. He commands light to be, and there is light. 



12 

We have already suggested that the mind of Channing was 
of this poelic order, and to this we may attribute not only his 
lofty aspirations, elevated sentiments, and reach of thought, 
but also that directness and sound practical common sense, 
so conspicuous even in the most ornate productions of his 
pen. 

It also imparts that persuasive power, which, with few 
exceptions, pervades all his writings ; and these exceptions 
are in most instances where the logical processes usurp the 
place of the poetic ; where for the moment he throws off 
the mantle of inspiration, and meets his opponents with the 
earth-made weapons of polemical discussion. But though the 
prominent characteristic of his mind w^as thus poetic, the 
logical modes of investigation were far from being wholly 
neglected. 

Of this, his writings furnish repeated and convincing proof. 
He made use of them as auxiliary to his own progress, and 
as a vehicle of truth to others. By the exercise of his mind 
in these two modes, the perceiving and reasoning faculties 
were kept healthy and vigorous, and as they grew, acquired 
strength and acuteness. It was indeed the harmonious com- 
bination of these powers, which made the action of his mind 
at once so strong and so graceful. 

These, taken in connexion with great moral power and 
purity, combine all the mental elements essential to grandeur 
of character, and the successful investigation of truth, and 
leave us only to regret that the physical frame in which they 
were embodied was too frail to admit of the full and contin- 
uous action of such powers. 

And yet we can conceive that this very weakness of the 
material nature may have made the spiritual more sensitive to 
truth, and more etherial in its thoughts. 

The clay-built prison house yielded to the spirit it impris- 
oned, and the mortal coil could only partially restrain tlie aspi- 
ring nature it seemed so feebly to enthrall. It is not improbable, 
too, that this pliysical weakness gave him a more acute feeling 
of the supremacy of moral power, and the necessity of relying 



13 

upon it to overcome all the ills of life, and to grapple with 
its numerous trials and temptations. In the spiritual energy 
which he thus put forth, under circumstances which so often 
enfeeble or crush effort, we have a sublime manifestation of 
that moral grandeur, that real greatness, to which human na- 
ture, through the medium of the true and the holy, may be 
elevated, and fulfil the noble destiny which is indicated by 
its pure and lofty aspirations. That he sometimes felt the 
subduing tendencies of bodily infirmity, and suffered from 
that keen sensibility it often imparts to the soul, and which 
renders it painful to come in collision with a selfish and 
unfeeling world, is manifest in occasional passages of his 
writings ; but they also contain abundant proof of the lofty 
determination which elevated him above their depressing 
influence, and enabled him to meet the conflicts of life not 
merely without fear, but with a serene confidence in the 
ultimate triumph of truth and virtue,' which sustained his 
hopes, and inspired his efforts with the emotion of victory. 
We think these feelings are indicated in a passage which we 
extract from his Essay on Milton. 

" We will not say, that we envy our first parents ; for we 
feel, that there may be a higher happiness than theirs, — a hap- 
piness won through struggle with inward and outward foes, the 
happiness of power and moral victory, the happiness of dis- 
interested sacrifices and wide-spread love, the happiness of 
boundless hope, and of ' thoughts which wander through eter- 
nity.' Still there are times when the spirit, oppressed with 
pain, worn with toil, tired of tumult, sick at the sight of guilt, 
wounded in its love, baffled in its hope, and trembling in its 
faith, almost longs for the 'wings of a dove, that it may fly 
away,' and take refuge amidst the ' shady bowers,' the ' vernal 
airs,' the ' roses without thorns,' the quiet, the beauty, the 
loveliness of Eden." — Vol. I. p. 18. 

This occasional shade of despondency only exhibits in 
stronger light the general tone of hope, strength, and eleva- 
tion which pervade his works, and which are sustained against 
bodily weakness by the happy constitution and assiduous 



14 

improvement of his mind ; a mind which, in view of the 
strength of his intellect, the clearness of his perceiving fac- 
ulties, and his moral power and purity, may in its action be 
compared to a strong and healthy eye, aided by a telescope, 
in looking at remote objects, through a medium so pure, 
that the slightest cloud might easily be detected in its re- 
motest bounds. 

The moral quahties were the foundation of his elevated 
character. The poetic power which we have ascribed to 
him, though, from its capacity of extension beyond the limits 
of language and of the senses, susceptible of the most ethe- 
rial elevation, does not of necessity aspire to it. In this 
utilitarian age we make the lightning run upon our errands, 
and toil in our work-shops ; and poetry, though electric in its 
nature, may be employed in every department of mind, and 
has a universality coextensive with its thoughts. It may 
have for Its object the discovery of native unadorned truth, 
or it may put forth its powers to render it more attractive, 
by clothing it in beauty. It may seek merely to entertain or 
amuse us, to minister to our immediate gratification, and, in 
doing this, it may still elevate the taste, purify the heart, and 
strengthen its hold upon virtue ; or it may throw its bright 
and glittering hues over the deformities of vice, and, dese- 
crated by grovelling passions, become the pander to the 
lowest appetites, and cater for their wants, by drawing from 
the regions of sensuality and impurity. 

In all these manifestations, it is still power, and, degraded 
as it may be, still spiritual power. The thunder cloud, low- 
ering upon the earth, still bears in its dark bosom celestial 
light, and thrills us with its fitful gleams while it sheds its blast- 
ing influence upon or around us. We gaze upon it with breath- 
less attention, with awe and with apprehension of its erratic 
brightness and power. 

How different the feelings with which we contemplate the 
beautiful cloud already elevated by its purity to the serene 
azure, illuminated by the softened splendor of Heaven, and 
reflecting upon us its benign radiance ; cheering the earth in 



15 

its sunshine, or dissipating a bright existence in the renovating 
dews which it sheds on a benighted world. Thus is it with 
those in whom high moral and intellectual endowments are 
brightened and etheriahzed by the poetic element ; and thus, 
looking upon the bright side of humanity, no one had higher 
words of encouragement than Channing, or, turning to its 
darker aspects, none offered to its weaknesses and its misfor- 
tunes more sincere and heartfelt sympathy, or more tender 
consolation ; w^hile none visited its errors with more inflex- 
ible judgment, or more just and effective reproof. 

He reasoned strongly, but it was not when he reasoned 
that his power was most felt. By the poetic element of his 
mind, he presented reality so clearly, that error found no 
hiding place. In the light of truth, it stood convicted and 
was abashed. By its obvious power to supply the deficien- 
cies of experience, he was enabled to reflect upon the wicked 
their own deformity, and make them feel the upbraidings of 
a violated conscience, and the pangs of a debased and muti- 
lated soul. 

We have been thus particular in defining the poetic char- 
acter of the mind of Channing, and solicitous to show that 
this, harmoniously co-operating with high moral qualities, was 
the principal element of his power, because we are aware 
that there are many w'ho look upon his views as wanting in 
that fervor which is allied to poetry, and in that faith which 
it often instinctively opposes to syllogystic argument, and 
who regard his theology as the result of cold reasoning 
and heartless verbal theories. Such, if they have observed 
his life, and studied his writings at all, have done it to little 
purpose. For confirmation of our position in this particular, 
we would open his works almost at random. The high 
estimate which he him.self had formed of this most etherial 
attribute of the mind, is of itself evidence, that he possessed 
it in no small measure ; for the possession of it is essential to 
the very conception of its true character. He probably had 
not examined it with the eye of a mere metaphysician, but 



16 

he saw it as it existed in his own mind, and in such combina- 
tions as it there found most congenial to its own nature. 

Glowing indeed must have been the original from which 
he drew the following description. 

''We agree with Milton in his estimate of poetry. It seems 
to us the divinest of all arts ; for it is the breathing or ex- 
pression of that principle or sentiment, which is deepest and 
sublimest in human nature; we mean, of that thirst or aspira- 
tion to which no mind is wholly a stranger, for something 
purer and lovelier, something more powerful, lofty, and thril- 
ling than ordinary and real life affords. No doctrine is more 
common among Christians, than that of man's immortality ; 
but it is not so generally understood, that the germs or prin- 
ciples of his whole future being are noio wrapped up in the 
soul, as the rudiments of the future plant in the seed. As a 
necessary result of this constitution, the soul, possessed and 
moved by these mighty, though infant energies, is perpetually 
stretching beyond what is present and visible, struggling against 
the bounds of its earthly prison-house, and seeking relief and 
joy in imaginings of unseen and ideal being. This view of our 
nature, which has never been fully developed, and which goes 
farther towards explaining the contradictions of human life 
than all others, carries us to the very foundation and source of 
poetry. 

" He who cannot interpret by his own consciousness what 
we have now said, wants the true key to genius. He has not 
penetrated those secret recesses of the soul, where poetry is born 
and nourished, and inhales immortal vigor, and wings herself for 
her heavenward flight. In an intellectual nature, framed for 
progress and for higher modes of being, there must be creative 
energies, powers of original and ever-growing thought ; and 
poetry is the form in which these energies are chiefly mani- 
fested. It is the glorious prerogative of this art, that it ' makes 
all things new,' for the gratification of a divine instinct. It 
indeed finds its elements in what it actually sees and experi- 
ences, — in the worlds of matter and mind ; but it combines 
and blends these into new forms, and according to new affin- 
ities; breaks down, if we may so say, the distinctions and 
bounds of nature; imparts to material objects life, and senti- 



17 

ment, and emotion, and invests the mind with the powers and 
splendors of the outward creation ; describes the surrounding 
universe in the colors which the passions throw over it ; and 
depicts the soul in those modes of repose or agitation, of ten- 
derness or sublime emotion, which manifest its thirst for a more 
powerful and joyous existence. To a man of literal and pro- 
saic character, the mind may seem lawless in these workings ; 
but it observes higher laws than it transgresses, — the laws of 
the immortal intellect ; it is trying and developing its best fac- 
ulties; and in the objects which it describes, or in the emotions 
which it awakens, anticipates these states of progressive power, 
splendor, beauty, and happiness, for which it was created. 

" We accordingly believe, that poetry, far from injuring 
society, is one of the great instruments of its refinement and 
exaltation. It lifts the mind above ordinary life, gives it a 
respite from depressing cares, and awakens the consciousness 
of its affinity with what is pure and noble. 

" In its legitimate and highest efforts, it has the same ten- 
dency and aim with Christianity ; that is, to spiritualize our 
nature. True, poetry has been made the instrument of vice, 
the pander of bad passions ; but when genius thus stoops, it 
dims its fires, and parts with much of its power : and even 
when poetry is enslaved to licentiousness or misanthropy, she 
cannot wholly forget her true vocation. Strains of pure feeling, 
touches of tenderness, images of innocent happiness, sympa- 
thies with suffering virtue, bursts of scorn or indignation at the 
hollowness ofthe world, passages true to our moral nature, 
often escape in an immoral work, and show us how hard it is 
for a gifted spirit to divorce itself wholly from what is good. 

" Poetry has a natural alliance with our best affections. It 
delights in the beauty and sublimity of the outward creation 
and of the soul. It indeed portrays, with terrible energy, the 
excesses of the passions ; but they are passions which show a 
mighty nature, which are full of power, which command awe, 
which excite a deep, though shuddering sympathy. Its great 
tendency and purpose is to carry the mind beyond and above 
the beaten, dusty, weary walks of ordinary life; to lift it into a 
purer element; and to breathe into it more profound and gene- 
rous emotion. It reveals to us the loveliness of nature, brings 
3 



18 

back the freshness of early feeling, revives the relish of simple 
pleasures, keeps unquenched the enthusiasm which warmed the 
spring-time of our being, refines youthful love, strengthens our 
interest in human nature by vivid delineations of its tenderest 
and loftiest feelings, spreads our sympathies over all classes of 
society, knits us by new ties with universal being, and, through 
the brightness of its prophetic visions, helps faith to lay hold on 
the future life. 

'^ We are aware that it is objected to poetry, that it gives 
wrong views and excites false expectations of life, peoples the 
mind with shadows and illusions, and builds up imagination on 
the ruins of wisdom. That there is a wisdom against which 
poetry wars, the wisdom of the senses, which makes physical 
comfort and gratification the supreme good, and wealth the 
chief interest of life, we do not deny; nor do we deem it the 
least service which poetry renders to mankind, that it redeems 
them from the thraldom of this earth-born prudence. But pass- 
ing over this topic, we would observe that the complaint against 
poetry, as abounding in illusion and deception, is in the main 
groundless. 

" In many poems there is more of truth than in many histo- 
ries and philosophic theories. The fictions of genius are often 
the vehicles of the sublimest verities, and its flashes often open 
new regions of thought, and throw new light on the mysteries 
of our being. In poetry, when the letter is falsehood, the spirit 
is often profoundest wisdom. And if truth thus dwells in the 
boldest fictions of the poet, much more may it be expected in 
his delineations of life ; for the present life, which is the first 
stage of the immortal mind, abounds in the materials of poetry, 
and it is the high office of the bard to detect this divine ele- 
ment among the grosser labors and pleasures of our earthly 
being. The present life is not wholly prosaic, precise, tame 
and finite. To the gifted eye it abounds in the poetic. The 
affections which spread beyond ourselves, and stretch far into 
futurity; the workings of mighty passions, which seem to arm 
the soul with an almost superhuman energy; the innocent and 
irreprcsisible joy of infancy ; the bloom, and buoyancy, and 
dazzling hopes of youth; the throbbings of the heart, when it 
first wakes to love, and dreams of a happiness too vast for 



19 

earth ; woman with her beauty, and grace and gentleness, and 
fullness of feeling, and depth of affection, and blushes of purity, 
and the tones and looks which only a mother's heart can in- 
spire; — these are all poetical. It is not true, that the poet 
paints a life which does not exist. He only extracts, and con- 
centrates, as it were, life's etherial essence, arrests and con- 
denses its volatile fragrance, brings together its scattered 
beauties, and prolongs its more refined but evanescent joys. 
And in this he does well ; for it is good to feel that life is not 
wholly usurped by cares for subsistence, and physical gratifica- 
tions, but admits, in measures which may be indefinitely en- 
larged, sentiments and delights worthy of a higher being. This 
power of poetry to refine our views of life and happiness, is 
more and more needed as society advances. It is needed to 
withstand the encroachments of heartless and artificial manners, 
which make civilization so tame and uninteresting. It is needed 
to counteract the tendency of physical science, which being 
now sought, not, as formerly, for intellectual gratification, but 
for multiplying bodily comforts, requires a new development of 
imagination, taste, and poetry, to preserve men from sinking 
into an earthly, material. Epicurean life. Our remarks in vin- 
dication of poetry have extended beyond our original design. 
They have had a higher aim than to assert the dignity of Milton 
as a poet, and that is, to endear and recommend this divine art 
to all who reverence and would cultivate and refine their na- 
ture."— Vol. I. p. 7. 

And again, in his essay on the Life and Writings of Fene- 
lon, he says : — 

"Let not beauty be so wronged. It resides chiefly in pro- 
found thoughts and feelings. It overflows chiefly in the writings 
o? poets gifted with a sublime and piercing vision." — Vol. I. 
p. 21L 

In his address to the Mercantile Library Company, deliv- 
ered at Philadelphia only a few months before his death, we 
find a more full confirmation of the views we have advanced 
of the essential truthfulness of poetry. 

" The great poet of our times, Wordsworth, one of the few 
who are to live, has gone to common life, to the feelings of our 



20 

universal nature, to the obscure and neglected portions of 
society, for beautiful and touching themes. Nor ought it to be 
said, that he has shed over these the charms of his genius; as 
if in themselves they had nothing grand or lovely. Genius is 
not a creator, in the sense of fancying or feigning what does 
not exist. Its distinction is, to discern more of truth than ordi- 
nary ?ninds. It sees, under disguises and humble forms, ever, 
lasting beauty. This it is the prerogative of Wordsworth to 
discern and reveal in the ordinary walks of life, in the common 
human heart. He has revealed the loveliness of the primitive 
feelings of the universal affections of the heart." — Vol. VI. 
p. 155. 

Those who accuse him of leaning to the side of a cold 
philosophy, and an exclusive and narrow rationalism, will 
hardly expect such sentiments from him as — 

" Men may be too rational as well as too fervent," " Men 
will prefer even a fanaticism which is in earnest, to a pretended 
rationality, which leaves untouched all the springs of the soul, 
which never lays a quickening hand on our love and veneration, 
our awe and fear, our hope and joy." — Vol. TIL p. 147. 

That he was philosophic and rational we freely admit and 
assert ; but his philosophy was not the mere unpractical re- 
sult of abstract investigation, nor his rationalism the aimless 
refinement of cold reasoning. In both, there was infused the 
electric influence of the poetic element, which quickened 
them into life glowing with vital warmth, and gave them a 
pervasive expansibility by which they reached the most pure 
and delicate sensibilities of the heart, wrought upon the sub- 
limest and the profoundest sentiments of our nature, lent a 
kindling spark to the deepest feelings and warmest afTections 
of the soul, and inspired it with those fervent hopes, and 
lofty and holy aspirations, by which the religious sentiment is 
most fully developed. 

In further illustration of the greater faith which he reposed 
in those truths which are perceived and felt, as compared 
with those which are the results of reasoning, we quote from 
liis '' Discourse on the Evidences of Revealed Religion." 



21 

*' There is another evidence of Christianity, still more inter- 
nal than any on which I have yet dwelt, an evidence to be felt 
rather than described^ but not less real because founded on feel- 
inop. I refer to that conviction of the divine oriorinal of our 
religion, which springs up and continually gains strength, in 
those who habitually apply it to their tempers and lives, and 
who imbibe its spirit and hopes. In such men, there is a con- 
sciousness of the adaptation of Christianity to their noblest 
faculties; a consciousness of its exalting and consoling influ- 
ences, of its power to confer the true happiness of human 
nature, to give that peace, which the world cannot give; which 
assures them that it is not of earthly origin, but a ray from 
the Everlasting Light, a stream from the fountain of Heavenly 
Wisdom and Love. This is the evidence which sustains the 
faith of thousands, who never read and cannot understand the 
learned books of Christian apologists, who want, perhaps, words 
to explain the ground of their belief, but whose faith is of ada- 
mantine firmness, who hold the gospel with a conviction more 
intimate and unwavering, than mere argument ever produced.'' — 
Vol. III. p. 132. 

He recognized these internal convictions as the immediate 
result of purity of mind, and though susceptible of advanta- 
geous combination with logical and scientific attainments, yet 
capable of distinct and independent manifestations. Speak- 
ing of Religion, he says : — 

" It is a subject to which every faculty and every acquisition 
may pay tribute, which may receive aids and lights from the 
accuracy of the logician, from the penetrating spirit of philoso- 
phy, from the intuitions of genius, from the researches of his- 
tory, from the science of the mind, from physical science, from 
every branch of criticism^ and, though last not least, yVo;/? the 
spontaneous suggestions and the moral aspirations of pure hut 
unlettered men.'' — Vol. I. p. 207. 

In conformity to these views, he had great confidence in 
all the elements of human nature, and sought to give a good 
direction to its impulses, to elevate its passions rather than to 
eradicate them, and to make its instincts intelligent rather than 
to crush or wholly subjugate them to the despotism of the 
reasoning faculties. 



9,9, 



For the reasons already stated, we have dwelt upon this 
feature of the character of Channing, and endeavored to for- 
tify our view of it with copious extracts from his own record 
of his mind ; but we deem its importance a sufficient apology 
for remarking yet farther upon it. 

That lie possessed great power of some kind, is universally 
admitted by those who differed, as will as by those who con- 
curred with him in his opinions and beliefs. That it w^as 
spiritual power, none will deny ; and moral qualities of the 
highest order are accorded to him by all. But it is remarka- 
ble, that, while his theological opponents accuse him of hav- 
ing converted religion into a philosophy, and of reaching his 
results through cold and barren abstractions, and arid and 
heartless theories, many of his friends appear to think him, at 
least comparatively, deficient in philosophical power, in met- 
aphysical analysis, and in logical acuteness. By some, his 
influence is attributed to the peculiar beauty in which, with 
rare endowment, he clothed his thoughts. But it is not by 
mere coloring that genius manifests itself and makes its im- 
pression on the world. It is the conception which it embod- 
ies, the thought, the truthfulness that takes strong and lasting 
hold of us, and however successful Channing may have been 
in rendering his thoughts attractive, we have no doubt that 
the great source of his power is to be found in the direct, 
strong, natural, and earnest expression of great doctrines, 
which he clearly perceived and firmly believed to be impor- 
tant to the progress and happiness of mankind ; in the clear 
enunciation of that order of truths which are yet elevated 
beyond the reach of philosophical analysis, or if thus acces- 
sible to gifted minds, susceptible of being presented to the 
great mass of men, only by means of the poetic power, 
which he so happily and successfully applied to this object. 
But the diversity of opinion to which we have alluded, indi- 
cates of itself that his mind was well balanced in this respect, 
and that without any deficiency, either of the poetic or logical 
powers, it only accorded supremacy to that which in its own 
nature was supreme. 



But though his elevation and sensibility rendered the poetic 
mode most congenial to his thoughts, and made controversy, 
in all its forms, repugnant to his feehngs, yet when in resisting 
the attacks of his opponents, he meets them upon their own 
ground, and returns to those proximate- principles which are 
within the limits of demonstration, or of logical deductions, 
we find no want of skill in the use of the weapons they have 
thus forced upon him. Do we often meet with more acute 
and conclusive logic than that with which he thus meets one 
of the arguments of a sect strongly opposed to his views ? 

'' It is no slight objection to the mode of reasoning adopted 
by the Calvinist, that it renders the proof of the divine attributes 
impossible. When we object to his representations of the divine 
government, that they shock our clearest ideas of goodness and 
justice, he replies, that still they may be true, because we know 
very little of God, and what seems unjust to man, may be in the 
Creator the perfection of rectitude. Now this weapon has a 
double edge. If the strongest marks and expressions of injus- 
tice do not prove God unjust, then the strongest marks of the 
opposite character do not prove hira righteous. If the first do 
not deserve confidence, because of our narrow views of God, 
neither do the last. If, when more shall be known, the first 
may be found consistent with perfect rectitude, so when more 
shall be known, the last may be found consistent with infinite 
malignity and oppression. This reasoning of our opponents 
casts us upon an ocean of awful uncertainty. Admit it, and we 
have no proofs of God's goodness and equity to rely upon. 
What we call proof may be but mere appearances, which a 
vi^ider knowledge of God may reverse. The future may show 
us, that the very laws and works of the Creator, from which we 
now infer his kindness, are consistent with the most determined 
purpose to spread infinite misery and guilt, and were intended, 
by raising hope, to add the agony of disappointment to our other 
woes. Why may not these anticipations, horrible as they are, 
be verified by the unfolding of God's system, if our reasonings 
about his attributes are rendered so very uncertain as Calvinism 
teaches, by the infinity of his nature." — Vol. I. p. 234. 

And from another portion of the same argument. 



24 

"It is an important truth, which we apprehend has not been 
sufficiently developed, that the ultimate reliance of a human 
being is and must be on his own mind. To confide in God, we 
must first confide in the faculties, by which He is apprehended, 
and by which the proofs of his existence are weighed. A trust 
in our ability to distinguish between truth and falsehood is im- 
plied in every act of belief; for to question this ability would 
of necessity unsettle all belief We cannot take a step in 
reasoning or action without a secret reliance on our own 
minds." — Vol. I. p. 226. 

And again he thus contends for the necessity of exercising 
the reason in matters of religious belief: — 

" But if once we admit, that propositions, which in their lit- 
eral sense appear plainly repugnant to one another, or to any 
known truth, are still to be literally understood and received, 
what possible limit can we set to the belief of contradictions? 
What shelter have we from the wildest fanaticism, which can 
always quote passages, that in their literal and obvious sense 
give support to its extravagances ? How can the Protestant 
escape from transubstantiation, a doctrine most clearly taught 
us, if the submission of reason now contended for be a duty? 
How can we even hold fast the truth of revelation, for if one 
apparent contradiction may be true, so may another, and the 
proposition that Christianity is false, though involving inconsis- 
tencies, may still be a verity? " — Vol. IH. p. 68. 

" We answer again, that if God be infinitely wise he cannot 
sport with the understandings of his creatures. A wise teacher 
discovers his wisdom in adapting himself to the capacities of 
his pupils, not in perplexing them with what is unintelligible, 
nor in distressing them with apparent contradictions, not in 
filling them with a skeptical distrust of their own powers. An 
infinitely wise teacher, who knows the precise extent of our 
minds, and the best method of enlightening them, will surpass 
all other instructors in bringing down truth to our apprehen- 
sions, and showing its truth and harmony. We ought, indeed, 
to expect occasional obscurity from such a book as the Bible, 
which was written for past and future ages, as well as for the 
present. But God's wisdom is a pledge, that whatever is neces- 



25 

sary for us and necessary for salvation, is revealed too plainly to 
be mistaken, and too consistently to be questioned by a sound 
and upright mind. It is not the work of wisdom, to use an 
unintelligible phraseology to communicate what is above our 
capacities, to confuse and unsettle the intellect by appearances 
of contradiction. We honor our heavenly teacher too much to 
ascribe to him such a revelation. A revelation is a gift of 
light, it cannot thicken our darkness and multiply our perplex- 
ities."— Vol. III. p. 68. 

And even in the didactic statement of his views, he often 
exhibits much logical skill in such an arrangement of the terms 
as presents the thought in clear and strong light, as for in- 
stance, 

" God indeed is said to seek his own glory ; but the glory of 
a creator must consist in the glory of his works ; and we may 
be assured that he cannot wish any recognition of himself, but 
that which will perfect his sublimest, highest work, the immor- 
tal mind." —Vol. III. p. 216. 

" In our apprehension, a conspiracy against the rights of the 
human race is as foul a crime as rebellion against the rights of 
sovereigns ; nor is there less of treason in warring against public 
freedom than in assailing royal power." — Vol. I. p. 128. 

The fact, however, that some of his most intimate friends 
and warmest admirers have suggested a deficiency in the 
power of metaphysical analysis and in logical acuteness, seems 
to require some explanation, as well as, perhaps, some apol- 
ogy from us for entertaining and expressing opinions differing 
from those of persons, who, to such opportunities for observ- 
ing, united such abilities to judge correctly. In reference to 
this difference of opinion we would observe, that it was Dr. 
Channing's habit to endeavor to advance men, and to encour- 
age their efforts in any good path which he found them pur- 
suing, rather than to turn their thoughts into other channels. 
He took position beyond them and led them on. " He had a 
thought beyond other men's thoughts," and we apprehend 
that few have entered with him into the discussion, even of 
the most abstract portions of ethics and metaphysics, without 
feeling the truth of this marked expression of one who knew 
4 ■ 



26 

him well, and well knew how to appreciate his excellence ; 
and it was upon these subjects that he usually chose to con- 
verse with the writer. On the other hand, those who have 
described him as wanting in metaphysical and logical power, 
are professed theologians, men who were engaged with him 
in inculcating the loftiest truths of a spiritual religion, in 
discoursing with whom these truths were most probably the 
absorbing theme ; and upon this subHme subject, his aspiring 
and fervent spirit would naturally soar above the limits of 
philosophical discussion, and lead him, in the didactic lan- 
guage of inspiration, to speak of what he perceived and felt, 
rather than of what he had investigated with metaphysical 
accuracy, or reduced to logical demonstration. With such 
men, he would portray his ideal of moral beauty and gran- 
deur ; his lofty conceptions of the real dignity of man, and 
of that progress in virtue and religion which he deemed not 
merely a means of reaching Heaven, but as Heaven already 
attained. 

With such men he would unfold his idea of the True, the 
Beautiful, the Godlike, and those subhme conceptions which 
he had reached, not by acute reasoning but by calm contem- 
plation of Divine perfections. From these perceptions of 
grandeur and goodness, came his clear views of that de- 
lightful progression in truth and virtue, which he held to be 
the appropriate condition of man. It was not with men who 
agreed with him in these views, and who, from his utterance 
of them, derived a kindred inspiration, that he would feel the 
necessity of descending from such high themes, to make a 
logical examination of the foundation on which he had reared 
the lofty and beautiful superstructure. With such men, he 
would practically illustrate his own precept to one about to 
assume the high functions of a spiritual teacher. " You will 
remember that good practice is the end of preaching, and will 
labor to make your people holy livers rather than skilful dis- 
putants." 

Such were the subjects, and such the manner of treating 
them, most congenial to his feelings ; and in this view, the 



27 

testimony of those friends and coadjutors to whom we have 
alluded, merely confirms our position, that his was of the 
poetic order of philosophic minds. While, on the other 
hand, the manner in which he met the arguments and asser- 
tions of his opponents, we think exhibits an ability for ab- 
stract reasoning of no ordinary character. Of this, we deem 
the passages we have selected sufficient proof; but the best 
specimens of logical power appear weak, cold, and narrow, 
when compared with the strong and fervid utterance, which, 
in other forms of discourse, he gave to his expansive views, 
and which carried conviction to the heart and to the intellect, 
through a higher and purer medium than that of verbal rea- 
soning ; and this is another reason why the logical power in 
him was not conspicuous. It paled under the influence of 
superior hght. Again, the most marked and striking mani- 
festations of the logical power are when it appears to succeed 
in forcing conviction against our consciousness, and boldly 
defies its supremacy. 

Thus, the apparently conclusive reasoning of Edwards 
against the freedom of the will, and the subtle argument of 
Berkeley to prove the nonexistence of matter, being processes 
of logic which, if erroneous, elude detection, while they 
contradict our consciousness, are deemed masterpieces of 
the art. But Channing's reverence for the dictates of the 
moral judgment was so great, his confidence in them so 
unwavering, that he never attempted such a display of his 
reasoning powers. He would have looked upon it as moral 
treason, as an effort to dethrone the legitimate sovereign of 
the mind. 

But there are other reasons for the impression alluded to 
as having obtained with some of his friends, which we will 
proceed to examine ; and, in the first place, we would remark, 
that the temperament of Channing was of the most ardent 
character. Of that calmness, which in him was so marked, 
apathy was no element, nor was it natural to him, but rather 
the effect of strong and steady discipHne, of great moral 
dignity, and an elevated, a rational and holy faith, which 



28 

raised him above the petty disturbances and conflicts of hfe. 
Yet this ardor occasionally broke through the self-restraint he 
habitually imposed upon it, and especially when his benevo- 
lence called it into action, when indignation for the oppressors 
of his race, who fettered the mind with error and tradition, or 
destroyed personal rights with the strong arm of despotism, 
kindled its latent fire. Though this spontaneous energy was, 
from its very nature, more apparent in his conversations, yet 
it is occasionally manifested in his writings ; as, for instance, 

" This system of espionage (we are proud that we have no 
English word for the infernal machine), had indeed been used 
under all tyrannies. But it wanted the craft of Fouche, and the 
energy of Bonaparte, to disclose all its powers." — Vol. I. p. ^5. 

"Whoever gives clear and undoubted proof, that he is pre- 
pared, and sternly resolved to make the earth a slaughter house, 
and to crush every will adverse to his own, ought to be caged 
like a wild beast ; and to require mankind to proceed against 
him by written laws and precedents, as if he were a private 
citizen in a quiet court of justice, is just as rational as to re- 
quire a man in imminent peril from an assassin to wait and 
prosecute his murderer according to the most protracted forms 
of law." — Vol. I. p. 123. 

" To such I would say that this doctrine, (Unitarianism) 
which is considered by some as the last and most perfect inven- 
tion of Satan, the consummation of his blasphemies, the most 
cunning weapon ever forged in the fires of hell, amounts to 
this : — That there is One God, even the Father ; and that 
Jesus Christ is not this One God, but his son and messenger, 
who derived all his powers and glories from the Universal 
Parent, and who came into the world not to claim supreme 
homage for himself, but to carry up the soul to his Father as 
the Only Divine Person, the Only Ultimate Object of religious 
worship." — Vol. III. p. 165. 

*' Did I believe, what Trinitarianism teaches, that not the 
least transgression, not even the first sin of the dawning mind 
of the child, could be remitted without an infinite expiation, I 
should feel myself living under a legislation unspeakably dread- 
ful, under laws written, like Draco's, in blood ; and instead of 
thanking the sovereign for providing an infinite substitute, I 



29 

should shudder at the attributes which render this expedient 
necessary.'"' — Vol. III. p. 196. 

With what significance could he at a later period of his 
life say, — 

" I call not on God to smite with his lightnings, to overwhelm 
ivith his storms, the accursed ship which goes to the ignorant 
and rude native freighted with poison and death ; Vv'hich goes to 
add new ferocity to savage life, new licentiousness to savage 
sensuality. I have learned not to call down lire from heaven." — 
Vol. VI. p. 166. 

With such ardent feelings, and that intense interest in the 
welfare of his race, which was manifested in his every thought 
and act, how could he wait the slow inculcation of metaphysi- 
cal abstractions, and their yet slower influence upon the prac- 
tical opinions, the habits, the sentiments, the feelings, and 
the voluntary actions of the mass } His sympathies were 
with the whole human family. He sought to increase the 
happiness of all, and through the medium of periodicals, 
popular lectures and professional discourses, brought himself 
most immediately in connection with the multitude. He saw 
them degraded by sordid and narrow views, and strove to 
inspire them with high and liberal thought, to awaken in them 
a sense of the true dignity of their nature, and animate them 
to noble and virtuous effort. In accomplishing this, he knew 
human nature too well to rely mainly upon the arts of logic. 
He knew that the lovehness of virtue, and the brightness of 
proximate truths, have a stronger hold on the affections, and 
a more direct influence on the moral feehngs and actions of 
men, than the subtle abstractions from which the acute meta- 
physician may deduce their verity, or into which he may 
generalize and condense them ; that the foliage and the 
flowers have more direct influence to gladden the heart, than 
the roots which sustain them. Yet no one better appreciated 
the value of that deep research, which determines the firm 
foundation of truth, and, surrounding it with logical defences, 
renders it impregnable to the assaults of skepticism, and se- 
cure from the wily approaches of sophistry. He knew that 



30 

the tendency of all error and of all truth, however apparently 
removed from the springs of action, was, eventually, to work 
out some practical result ; and he knew that in the last analy- 
sis, the deep thinkers are they who move the world ; that 
they give impulse and direction to the great current of events 
and ideas, in which shallow errors, superficial thought and 
perverted action, only cause some temporary eddies and 
counter currents, destined to be swept away in the tide of 
truth resistlessly onward. 

In the following passages we find this great and cheering 
thought shadowed forth : — 

" The great sources of intellectual power and progress to a 
people, are its strong and original thinkers, be they found where 
they may." * * * * a 'pjjg energy which is to carry 
forward the intellect of a people, belongs chiefly to private in- 
dividuals who devote themselves to lonely thought, who worship 
truth, who originate the views demanded by their age, who 
help to throw off the yoke of established prejudices, who im- 
prove old modes of education or invent better." — Vol. I. p. 163. 

*' But as society advances, mind, thought, becomes the sove- 
reign of the world ; and accordingly at the present moment, 
profound and glowing thought, though breathing only from the 
silent page, exerts a kind of omnipotent and omnipresent en- 
ergy. It crosses oceans and spreads through nations ; and at 
one and the same moment, the conceptions of a single mind are 
electrifying and kindling multitudes through wider regions than 
the Roman eagle overshadowed. This agency of mind on 
mind, I repeat it, is the true sovereignty of the world, and 
kings and heroes are becoming impotent by the side of men of 
deep and fervent thought." — Vol. III. p. 141. 

*' Perhaps some silent thinker among us is at work in his 
closet, whose name is to fill the earth. Perhaps there sleeps 
in his cradle some Reformer, who is to move the church and 
the world, who is to open a new era in history, who is to fire 
the human soul with new hope and new daring." — Vol. VI. p. 
181. "Great ideas are mightier than the passions." — Vol. 
V. p. 184. 

And his mission was to unfold great ideas, to ennoble his 



31 

fellow men by lofty thought, and encourage them to virtuous 
effort. But, as we have already observed, he did not pre- 
sent these great ideas through the medium of metaphysical 
reasoning, nor make its abstractions the foundation of his 
notions of virtue. Though the result of deep and fervent 
thought, there is in them no appearance of laborious or in- 
genious manipulation of words or ideas. He seemed to 
perceive them merely because he had attained an elevation 
from which his sphere of vision was enlarged. They were 
the revelations of an inspired mind, acting under the stimulus 
of intense interest in all that affected the welfare of his race. 
He ever preferred the useful to the curious. He saw his 
fellow men enslaved by their own passions and prejudices, or 
by an external, arrogant authority, and was more solicitous to 
inspire them with the spirit of freedom, than to investigate 
the sources of ecclesiastical and pohtical power. He saw 
them suffering from error, and preferred rather to inspire 
them with a love of truth, than to trace out the subtle dis- 
tinctions between the relative and absolute ; and was more 
anxious to turn them from evil, than to discover its origin. 

He chose to encourage men to make those voluntary 
moral efforts, which he considered as the essence of virtue, 
rather than engage himself in the controversy with the advo- 
cates of necessity, or attempt a verbal demonstration of free 
agency. With his acute sense of the suffering and degrada- 
tion which arose from erroneous and narrow views, his clear 
convictions of the happiness and elevation of which man is 
susceptible, and his intense anxiety to relieve and to advance 
his condition, he could not coldly apply such slow remedies, 
and wait the tedious result of the circulation of doctrines so 
apparently remote from the practical concerns of life. Yet 
he did not undervalue the investigation of these truths, and 
many were the words of encouragement which he spake to 
those whose dispositions led them into these abstruse in- 
quiries. To such he had not only words of encouragement, 
but aid ; for few men had a clearer perception of the actual 
position of such problems, and of their various relations, than 



32 

himself ; and few could more readily detect a too hasty 
generalization, or point out any portion of the subject, or 
collateral question, which had been passed without sufficient 
examination ; and though, as we have observed, the action of 
his mind was generally in the poetic mode, yet the student of 
mental philosophy cannot fail to observe, that some of his 
most beautiful and popular thoughts appear to have been 
evolved from abstruse metaphysical inquiries, and that a large 
portion of them bear the impress of its influence ; — that be- 
neath them lies the intricate and unseen apparatus of mental 
assimilation, which penetrates, with innumerable fibres, the 
richest soil of the intellect, and thence derives sustenance for 
the bloom and verdure which appear on the surface. 

To elicit deep and hidden truth, by the logical processes, 
is a high effort of philosophy ; but it is yet a higher, to give 
these truths a practical application, and make them immedi- 
ately conducive to pure feelings, elevated piety, and energetic 
virtue. This, the highest of all philosophical attributes, was 
Channing's peculiar power, and will ever give him a high 
rank among 

"The dead but sceptred sovereigns, who rule 
Our spirits from their urns." 

Among those legitimate sovereigns of the world, "who by 
their characters, deeds, suffering, writings, leave imperishable 
and ennobling traces of themselves on the human mind ; who 
penetrate the secrets of the universe and of the soul ; who 
open new fields to the intellect ; who give it a new con- 
sciousness of its own powers, rights, and divine original ; 
who spread enlarged and liberal habits of thought, and who 
help men to understand that an ever growing knowledge is 
the patrimony destined for them by the Father of Spirits." * * 
Among these, a high place will be assigned to the " moral 
and religious reformer, who truly merited that name ; who 
rose above his times ; who, moved by a holy impulse, as- 
sailed vicious establishments sustained by fierce passions and 
inveterate prejudices ; who rescued great truths from the 
corruptions of ages ; who, joining calm and deep thought to 



33 

profound feeling, secured to religion at once enliglitened and 
earnest conviction ; who unfolded to men higher forms of 
virtue than they had yet attained or conceived ; who gave 
brighter and more thrilHng views of the perfection for which 
they were framed, and inspired a victorious faith in the perpet- 
ual progress of our nature." 

Such was Channing as a philanthropist and philosopher ; 
so nearly realizing his own ideal of the lofty and noble in 
humanity, that his eloquent description of it seems better to 
delineate his own character, than any other language in which 
we can portray it. His whole mind partook of this excel 
lence. Gifted with clear and far-reaching poetic vision, 
which made him familiar with the loftiest sphere of human 
thoughts, and the sublimest of human aspirations, with rea- 
soning faculties, and a power of philosophical analysis, which 
restrained and diffused the electric fervor of the poetic ele- 
ment, checked its exuberance, and enabled him to give its 
discoveries and inspirations that palpable form and practi- 
cal application to which he was strongly moved by a benevo- 
lence which warmed his whole soul. And these faculties, 
thus harmonizing and lending mutual aid to each other, warm- 
ing while they enlightened ; deriving energy from the earnest- 
ness of his disposition, yet preserved by the purity of his life 
in all their native delicacy and sensibility ; made vigilant by 
an abiding sense of the just responsibilities of man to God, 
to his fellow Ueings, and to himself, of his high susceptibili- 
ties and the great duties of self-restraint and self-cultivation, 
and stimulated by these considerations and an intense, a burning 
interest in the welfare of his race, to the highest and most 
constant activity which his fragile health permitted. 

The result was such as might be anticipated from so rare a 
combination of mental faculties, directed by such pure and 
lofty motives, animated by such glowing thoughts, and invig- 
orated by such virtuous and thrilling impulses. 

He consecrated himself to the elevation and advancement 
of his race, and few have so happily moved the world with 
5 



34 

great truths, or so successfully warmed into activity the in- 
tellectual and moral effort which had been rendered torpid 
by the chilling influence of religious despotism. We cannot 
name a writer who has done more to awaken in his readers a 
true consciousness of the sublime attributes of their spiritual 
natures, or who has contributed so much to enlighten and lib- 
eralize the public mind upon the high truths of religion, and 
to place these truths on a firm and rational ground, or who 
has breathed into it a more vital, purifying and ennobling influ- 
ence. 

The perusal of his works must ever awaken the soul to the 
contemplation of sublime and glorious truths, animate it with 
lofty and magnanimous purpose, quicken its hallowing aspira- 
tions for moral beauty, truth and holiness, and incite it with 
glowing ardor to press forward in the path of duty and virtue, 
to the fulfilment of its noblest destiny. 

The improvement of his fellow beings was the great 
object of his life. This was the absorbing theme of his philos- 
ophy, and the incentive to his action. His prevailing ideas 
of the proper condition of man, may be comprised in three 
words, — Freedom, Progress, Happiness. And in his view, 
freedom was mainly important as it accelerated progress, which, 
in its turn, derived its value from its relation to happiness. 

Hence his whole theology was based on freedom, as essen- 
tial to that elevation and improvement of the moral nature, 
most favorable to the development of the religious sentiment, 
and to the highest and purest enjoyment of spiritual exist- 
ence. 

But with these ultimate and prevailing views of the chief 
value of liberty, he did not overlook its important influences 
on the physical and social condition of man. 

He occupied a similar position in regard to physical ad- 
vantages arising from any other cause. His benevolence led him 
spontaneously to rejoice at their increase, and to regret their 
absence or diminution, while his more matured thought found 
in their influence to elevate the mind, their principal utility 
and final cause. In this resi)ect he may be said to have united 
the old and new philosophy, — through the material, comfort- 



35 

seeking utilitarianism of the Baconian arriving at the soul- 
elevating, etherial views of the Socratic school. With 
reference to the popular opinion of the two systenis, we 
might say the means he employed or indicated were ofien 
Baconian, the end he proposed was always Socratic. 

His effort to place theology on a rational ground ; to test its 
formulas by the results of observation, and give it a more 
practical influence, were consistent with the new philosophy ; 
while his desire to make the power, which through this phi- 
losophy, mind had acquired over matter, conducive to a 
higher spirituality, was in harmony with the sublime doctrines 
of the leaders of the ancient school. The disciples of Soc- 
rates and Plato disdained the application of philosophy to 
material objects, for the purpose of contributing to our phy- 
sical wants. 

The followers of Bacon receiving their impulse, rather 
from their leader's prevaihng bias, than from any necessary 
consequence of his theory, directed their efforts principally 
to this object. Under the varying circumstances which existed 
at the two periods of their action, both were probably right. 
In the times of Socrates and Plato there was little diffused 
intelligence among the people, and the quintessence of it which 
constitutes the philosophy of every age would not bear gen- 
eral diffusion as to the objects of its power. It was then a 
wise foresiglit, or a noble instinct, which directed it exclu- 
sively to the greatest object of all philosophical thought, — 
the moral and intellectual condition of man. By thus sepa- 
rating it from the vulgar uses of organic life, they maintained 
its purity and brightness unsullied, gave it a dignified and lofty 
character which commanded the reverence and admiration 
of the world, thus rendering it attractive to a portion of that 
talent which had previously found exercise only in warlike 
achievements, or dissipated itself in wrangles for political 
supremacy, and which, accustomed to such exciting and bril- 
liant modes of aggrandizement, would have found no allure- 
ments in a utilitarianism which had for its end the mere 
addition to human comforts, or in any philosophy which pro- 
posed for its object anything less than the grandest achieve- 



36 

ment of tbougbt, — the elevation and inaprovement of the 
soul. Its application then to the common uses of life, would 
have protracted the iron rule of military despotism, and pro- 
bably also have led to low and grovelling views among those 
who might still apply themselves to philosophical pursuits. 

But aside from these speculations, the results of the efforts 
of the Sophists and the Epicureans indicate that at that period, 
and for a long time after, the union of philosophy and the 
arts was impracticable, or at least incompatible with the 
highest interests of humanity. That early stage of society 
in which physical force is the principal element of govern- 
ment, had not yet been past. It was first requisite that phi- 
losophy should bring to its aid precisely that order of talent 
which was quite as likely to seek distinction in the camp as in 
the portico. It needed this active power to influence the pop- 
ular mind, to diffuse the desire of knowledge by making its 
possession honorable, and thus multiply readers to an extent 
which should stimulate invention to supply the increased de- 
mand for books. It was further necessary, that the increased 
means of circulating information should have time to produce 
some practical effects. To have proposed the application of 
intelligence to the manual arts, when the artists had no intel- 
ligence to apply, and before there were any means of com- 
municating to them the results of philosophical investigation, 
would have been at least premature, and could have produced 
no beneficial result. The invention of printing removed these 
difficulties. Intelligence became more abundant and more 
diffused. Philosophy was carried to every man's door, and 
every artist, and eventually every laborer, could apply its 
discoveries to his daily pursuits. This movement had com- 
menced before the lime of Bacon, but the feeling against such 
application, to which we have alluded, had an influence in 
retarding it until his vigorous mind, confident in clear percep- 
tion, and unswayed by those sentiments which in reverence 
for time-honored doctrines and sympathy with lofty views 
and noble thoughts, might have restrained a less hardy intel- 
lect, broke down the barriers, and the accumulated power of 
the age acquired an impulse towards material science, which 



37 

was soon after much accelerated by the magnificent discove- 
ries of Newton and his contemporaries. The splendor and 
magnitude of these discoveries in those portions of physical 
research, whicii are farthest removed from a narrow and selfish 
use of the intellectual faculties, were associated with the util- 
itarian movement, and gave it a dignity which reconciled it 
even to those who would otherwise have contemned it as a 
a desecration of mental power. 

It has since been long sustained by the rapidly increasing 
demand for the tangible comforts of life, to the production of 
which it has been made subservient. 

These in turn have reached a point where they are again 
conducive to spiritual progress. The great current of philo- 
sophic thought has ever been in that channel, and we here 
find that the Baconian system is but a collateral portion of it, 
which, during an overflow, has found or formed a new chan- 
nel, but eventually returns with accumulated volume to the 
parent stream. 

To hasten this return was a grand result of Channing's 
efforts, and though in the progress of knowledge this reunion 
was necessary, and the tendency of the age had already set 
in that direction, yet we deem the services he performed in 
its achievement sufficiently important, and sufficiently in ad- 
vance of his contemporaries, to entitle his name to the most 
conspicuous place in the history of its accomplishment. His 
partiality for the spiritual side of philosophy was not exceeded 
by that of Socrates, Plato and Seneca, yet he did not con- 
temn the material, but, on the contrary, endeavored to make 
it the vehicle of the most sublime and etherial truths to the 
mass of mankind. 

Practically to unite intelligence and elevating thought with 
the pursuits of the artisan, the laborer, and the distributor of 
their toil, is the prominent and ostensible object of many of 
his essays, among which we would instance his '' Address 
before the Mercantile Library Association of Philadelphia," 
" Lectures on Self Culture," and those "On the Elevation 
of the Laboring portion of the community." 

In the aid which philosophy brought to physical effort, he 



38 

saw a means of lessening the naanual labor required to supply 
our bodily wants, and of thus relieving the mind of the labor- 
er from the depressing influence of physical exhaustion, while 
by making thought a necessary portion of his occupation, he 
was elevated above the mere machine of sinews, bones, and 
muscles, to which he had been degraded by an ignorance 
which rendered him unable to resist oppression. In the in- 
creased physical comforts produced by this aid, he saw the 
basis of a higher spiritual condition for all classes, though 
more especially for those to whom education had already been 
one of its results. 

In the less time required to feed and clothe the body, he 
saw the means of applying more to the cultivation of the 
mind. In short, he looked upon the whole movement as a 
means of accelerating that higher progress which God or- 
dained to be the chief end of man's existence, and to which 
all his designs as manifested in his works so obviously refer. 

From causes, to some of which we have alluded, the time 
of Bacon was favorable to the impulse be gave. The inci- 
pient stage of abstract thought in physics had past ; the time 
to make it practical, — to reap the fruit, had arrived. We 
have witnessed its prodigious results, — the discoveries of 
the modern astronomy displaying the wonders of the heavens, 
— geology divining those of earth, — the time and space de- 
stroying railroad and telegraph, — the servitude of steam, 
light, and lightning, and the universal subjugation of less 
etherial forms of matter, attest the magnificent and stupen- 
dous achievements with which his name is so gloriously asso- 
ciated. The labors of Channing embraced a period when 
these results were consummating, when success and the plenti- 
tude of acquirement in physics led men to look for a higher 
application, — an ultimate use for the accumulation. The 
victories of mind over matter had been so splendid and so 
rapid, that it began to feci the want of another world to con- 
quer. It was the office of Channing to direct this victorious 
energy to spiritual progress, and in this object to the find 
ultimate use of its previous acquisitions. The utilitarian was 
thus again merged in the parent philosophy. 



39 

The results of this union are yet to be unfolded. Imagi- 
nation can hardly picture them as vast and brilliant as those 
just developed ; yet when we compare the mundane charac- 
ter of the region which philosophy has just traversed, with 
the etherial sphere which is to be the theatre of its future 
progress, we ought not to anticipate less, either in magni- 
tude or splendor. The union of the two philosophies indi- 
cates a further change. The Baconian had inclined far to 
the material side, and its junction with the main current must 
now have the effect to give the whole a more spiritual direc- 
tion than its usual channel. The metaphysical age must suc- 
ceed the mechanical. An age commencing like that which 
has preceded it, with abstract speculation and disinterested 
thought, which in the uniform mode of progressive knowledge, 
will also at last work their way to a practical result, and lend 
their influence to quicken the moral sensibilities, ennoble the 
sentiments, purify the affections, and strengthen and refine 
the whole spiritual nature. 

This is obviously the goal, or a goal, of mental science ; 
and it is because these practical results are not yet developed, 
that the philosophy of mind finds so little favor with the great 
majority of mankind. Before the sowing of the seed is com- 
pleted, they complain that the harvest is not ready to be 
gathered. We think it requires no supernatural prophetic 
vision to see these results in the future. When they shall be 
realized, a just and impartial judgment may be formed of the 
incipient efforts to reelevate the spiritual, and make it the 
great object of thought and progress. 

In that day, the services which Channing has performed in 
uniting the new and the old philosophy, though now little 
thought of, and unconsciously performed, may appear the most 
prominent of his useful life, and constituting an important 
epoch in the history of philosophy, place him in a rank as 
high among the great and wise who have contributed to its 
advancement, as his benevolence has already obtained for 
him among the benefactors of his race, and give him as valid 
a title to philosophical fame as by elevated virtue, enlightened 
philanthropy, and disinterested devotion to the cause of hu- 



40 

inanity, be has acquired to the admiration, love, and gratitude 
of mankind. In this \'iew we have endeavored to exhibit 
the influence which he has had on that great current of philos- 
ophy, whose present force and direction is the composition 
and last result of the individual thought of past ages. 

In this connexion we would also mention another instance 
of his influence, more immediately relating to political and 
social improvement. The progress of social organization is 
from physical force to intellectual power ; from intellectual 
power to moral influence. 

In his articles on Napoleon, Channing gave the first 
decisive blow to that manifestation of intellectual energy, 
which is most nearly allied to brute force, and thus weakening 
the alliance of the intellectual with the physical, as a means 
of governing, prepared the way for the substitution of the 
intellectual, united with the moral powers, which makes the 
next step in that progression of which love is the last term. 

There are some cheering indications of progress in this 
respect. Governments are learning to recognize the rights of 
subjects, and in their intercourse with each other the obliga- 
tions of justice are more regarded. They are now ashamed 
to confound might with right, and the strong deem it neces- 
sary to preserve at least the appearance of fair dealing with 
the weak. In glancing over these marked results of his 
labors, we are again reminded of that harmony in his intellec- 
tual and moral character to which w^e have before alluded, 
and which thus made his efforts equally effective in the loftiest 
region of speculation, and in the ordinary sphere of practical 
life. We have already suggested that it is yet too early to 
estimate the extent of his influence on human progress, but 
it is even now obvious that he has made benevolence more 
universal, religion more rational, philosophy more spiritual, 
and action more moral. 






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